


I'll take your hand (and then your worries, too).

by Pandolphin



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Area Man In Awe Of Competent Woman, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Faris Drinks His Respect Women Juice, Post-Game(s), gentle flirting, he's not there very long but for the few times he pops up it helps, more specifically his Respect Gemma Juice, the hero's name is Nova
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandolphin/pseuds/Pandolphin
Summary: With Gemma’s smile in mind, Faris rose from his seat, without a word. He managed to pull her attention back to him, curious but observant. “Prince Faris?”“If milady is not troubled by my company,” Faris, for his part, bowed at the waist, his hand extended towards her, “might I then ask her for a dance?”
Relationships: Background Luminerik - Relationship, Prince Faris/Emma | Gemma, frysajade somewhere off in the horizon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	I'll take your hand (and then your worries, too).

**Author's Note:**

> so this is one of five prompts I got back in september and this is... the only one so far to be completed. but apparently dq twitter saw my earlier faremma nonsense and I had to redeem myself by adding something more wholesome. please think well of me twitter I promise there's method to my madness
> 
> the word for this prompt was "balter: to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment"

“I owe you one, Faris.” 

“Think nothing of it, old friend!” Faris gave Nova a thumbs up and stellar smile, as was his nature. “I know this… particular problem well, now. Certainly longer than you have! It simply would not be right to leave you to fend for yourself in a den of wolves.” 

Nova, sheepish, brushed his hair back behind his ear; the ponytail he’d gathered it into was ineffective at best, and only becoming more so in the cold breeze of Sniflheim. “I know they were being persistent, but… calling a bunch of girls ‘a den of wolves’ might be pushing it a little, don’t you think?” 

“Given our circumstances, no. I really, truly do not.” And Faris affirmed that with a single nod, saying without words that the point was moot. “And nor does Princess Jade, or she would not have stayed by your side all evening.” 

“Yeah, still don’t feel great about that...” Nova sighed. “Will you let her know I’m out here? I don’t want her to worry about me. This is hers and Frysabel’s day.” 

“You speak as though my cousin doesn’t worry for you just the same!” Faris laughed. “But, worry not! I will let them know. You will not be going far from the Ænsteinn, will you?” 

“Where else would I go?” 

“You have a penchant for slipping away unnoticed, Nova! Our case here, in point.” 

“Pfft—alright, alright, I’ll give you that.” Deciding he’d had enough of it, Nova pulled his hair out of his ponytail, before making his way down the front steps. “I’ll come back inside when things settle down. Should be able to find my way on my own.” 

“So long as you are sure.” And Faris waved him off, with much less exuberance than they both knew he could use. Subtlety was the name of the game here. “I shall make sure they set cake aside for you!” 

* * *

“—So he’s still out there?” 

“As he said, there is not much else for him to go. Certainly not at this time of night.” Faris shrugged. “And I cannot imagine that Nova would go far without you all with him.” 

“You’d think that.” Erik crossed his arms, not terribly convinced by the idea; Faris took no offense, because it _was_ still Nova they were talking about, so it was obvious from the start that Erik would be the most worried. Even more so when he declared, “I’d better go check on him.” 

“As you wish.” Faris offered, and he pointed Erik towards a far off door, hidden to the right of the main entrance. “Following that door should let you into the courtyard. The town square is just a short walk to your left from there.” 

“Thanks.” And Erik walked passed him without a second glance back, and with a fleeting sense of urgency in his steps. 

Sylvando, being as he was, had observed the whole exchange rather bemused, and barely held a titter back behind his hand. “My, my, what _are_ we going to do with those boys? Even at a party, they’re always following the other around like little ducklings.” 

Despite his composure and dedication to aiding his friend, Faris snorted. “A rather wholesome analogy for them, is it not?” 

“Oh, believe you me. If either of them were capable of a salacious thought as they are right now, we would know.” Sylvando sighed. “Ignorance can be such sweet, innocent, heart-wrenching bliss.” 

“A kind way to say ‘exhausting’.” Faris couldn’t speak for Erik, but time had proven again and again that Nova would not know if someone had taken interest in him without it being explicitly said. And even that was a gamble! It was miraculous that he’d figured out the intentions of Sniflheim’s noble ladies all on his own, but even then Faris suspected that being smitten himself was the only thing helping Nova catch those context clues to begin with. 

“Probably! Buuut, let them figure it out. We have much more important things to worry about.” The only thing Sylvando seemed to love more than meddling was a party, but those two things came to play rather nicely together when he placed both hands on Faris’ shoulders, starting to guide him out to the ballroom floor. “For one thing, _you_ should be out there cutting a rug!” 

“Ah—no, no, not I.” Faris pushed the thought away with a wave, feet firm on the ground. “I’m afraid such a thing is… not a strong suit of mine.” 

Sylvando raised an eyebrow. “Now, now, Princey-Poo…” 

“No, please! This was not of my own design, on my honor.” He had all but jumped out of Sylvando’s grasp to face his questioning proper. Faris had made some mistakes before, and he had owned up to them, but he wasn’t about to take a fall for this. “I truly do not know how. It was never a thing I was required to be tutored in.” 

“No? Never?” Sylvando tutted, disappointed, but not at Faris specifically. This time. “Ah, now that’s a real shame! And this is hardly the time or place for a lesson...” 

“As I understand it, my mother was given lessons in her youth, and she detested them. As such, she did not want me to be forced into it as she had.” Perhaps it was a flimsy excuse for someone like Sylvando, but it was the truth. “I am afraid it simply never came to be.” 

“Ahh, that would explain it, then. Fancier the dance, the stuffier the tutor.” Surprisingly, Sylvando nodded to himself quietly in understanding. “Some people just don’t know how to party. Truly tragic.” 

“Not as tragic as if I were to make a fool of myself at my cousin’s wedding.” Faris was not without his priorities; he was just as determined to not make trouble for Frysabel as Nova was for Princess Jade. “Moreover, I would argue that my favor to Nova is not yet at an end.” 

“And just how would you figure that?” 

Faris cast a subtle glance to his left, then to his right, before speaking again, low and careful. “Naturally, Erik would notice right away that he was gone. As would all of you, truly, close as you are. But then, it would only be a matter of time before his absence is noticed by others, yes?” 

“Including who he’s trying to avoid.” Sylvando finished with a thoughtful hum. “So. You’re planning on being a distraction for all these lovely young ladies looking for a husband?” 

“As I told Nova, I have had this problem far longer than he. And I would daresay, I am an old hand at… tastefully avoiding such proposals, when quelling them is out of the question.” His horse-riding might have still paled in comparison to Nova’s, but if there was one thing Faris could say he held over the Luminary, it was his vastly superior people skills. “If I must take a fall for my friend to have a night of peace, then so be it.” 

Faris allowed himself a smile, self-assured and perhaps the slightest bit smug. “Of course, should you continue to flare the light fantastic, I cannot imagine that leaving he and Erik to their devices will be an impossible task to fulfill. Surely, you thought the same, no?” 

And to Faris’ surprise, Sylvando laughed, a cross between flattered and delighted. “Well, obviously! They’re at that age, you know. And so are you!” 

Sylvando raised a hand, and flicked at the feather adorning Faris’ turban. But he did so, Faris thought, with an almost admirable look in his eyes. Even more so when he said, “Darling, you’re doing juuuust fine.” 

* * *

For as much as praise from Sylvando had put a pep in his step, Faris was not about to let his own ego overshadow his own fraternal duties, and he performed those duties as swiftly and methodically as he could. He had already spoken with the Princess after parting with Nova, but it would have been ill-mannered not to let her know Erik went after him. As expected, she had a similar take as Sylvando, smiling and shaking her head at the news, but she thanked Faris all the same, before returning to Frysabel’s side. 

Then came the long game, but as he had suspected, it wasn’t nearly as tedious with Sylvando entertaining aristocrats off to the side. This was a boon Faris had hoped for, because he knew well that Sylvando had garnered a bevy of admirers in the circus, and many of the ladies that had hounded Nova before were now mesmerized by Sylvando’s sleights of hand. For any that weren’t, all it took was a few honeyed words, and Faris could easily send them that way; he was sure he saw Sylvando shoot him a rather conspiratorial wink, but perhaps he was just romanticizing the situation a little. 

It left him with much more free time than he had anticipated, more room to perform actual, arguably more important royal networking. Gallopolis and Sniflheim had never been in bad relations, but distance coupled with Frysabel’s less than ideal ascension to the throne would make anyone in politics a bit uneasy now and then. But luckily enough, Faris was not one of those people, and excelled at reassurances to all people, not just his own subjects. 

To say nothing of the kingdoms and cities outside of their own! Of course, King Carnelian and Lord Robert were in attendance for the Princess, as were his own father and mother for Frysabel, but Faris couldn’t have been sure he’d ever seen so many people from all walks of life gathered in the castle here. Beyond the royal norms were fighters of Octagonia, decorated champions Princess Jade had bested and earned the unyielding respect of, and the High Lama and Master of Angri-La had even come to give their blessings. (Faris, for his part, suspected that was due to Lady Krystalinda more than anything, seeing how rather cozy she had gotten with Master Pang off the bat, but he knew better than to vocalize such suspicions.) 

The influence and good will of the Luminary and his comrades was spread to all corners of the globe, no stone left unturned—and what an apt analogy for that, Faris thought, when he noticed the young lady of Cobblestone sitting off to the side on a bow window. 

It did take Faris a moment longer to recognize her, with her scarf tied around her neck and not her head, but Gemma was not someone who he could forget easily. It was not his first time meeting her; Faris had that favor given to him a year or so prior, when she accompanied Nova on a visit to Gallopolis, and he’d spoken to her many times since Dundrasil’s reconstruction began. She had an impeccable eye for detail and a head for business, and with his kingdom being… as it was sometimes, that was something Faris greatly respected. The fact that Gemma was endearing and witty and charming on top of all that only worked in her favor—and Faris rather thought her teal gown looked lovely on her. 

He wasn’t at all surprised to see her here, either. After a long journey of not knowing her fate, it was only natural that Nova would want his best friend to travel with him when she was able. Faris did suppose, though, that it was odd to see her staring so intently out the window as she was, when there was a party to be had. It didn’t seem her nature to be a wallflower—and so, he had to investigate. 

Gemma noticed him as he approached, the fault of his sandals on marble floors most likely, but she greeted him warmly, and with as best a curtsy as she could manage while seated. “Good evenin’, Prince Faris!” 

“Milady.” He returned her gesture with a slight bow of his own, casual, but still polite. And it did earn him Gemma’s sunshine smile, so it was all for the best really. “Might I ask what has caught your eye so?” 

To that, Gemma merely giggled, a sound that Faris could only compare to the delicate ringing of bells, and she ushered him closer, to look out the window where she pointed. “Right out there. Could be a bit hard to see—but you can’t really miss Erik anywhere.” 

“Oh?” Now that gave him a few ideas, and as he followed Gemma’s direction, those ideas were proven true: the window faced outward onto the town square, overlooking the Ænsteinn, and while it was still far off and away, there really was no mistaking the shock of sky blue that was Erik, sitting along the fountain’s edge with a figure clad in Dundrasil’s green and red and white. A figure with an unfairly perfect head of brown hair, sitting as close to Erik as they could for warmth, until Erik decided his black coat was better placed on that figure’s shoulders. 

“Ha _ha!_ ” For Nova’s sake, if nothing else, Faris tried not to laugh at the sight. He did not succeed. “Idiots to lovers, I see.” 

“That’s puttin’ it mildly!” And Gemma shook her head with a roll of her eyes, as though she’d seen things like this a thousand times before. “Gosh. I do feel a little bad, snoopin’ on ‘em like this. If Nova found out, he’d get me back even worse.” 

“You can hardly be blamed for such a thing! It is their own fault, for making this as painfully entertaining as they have.” 

“Try tellin’ that to Nova.” 

“I can and I will. As you would as well, I imagine.” Gemma rolled her eyes with a prankish smile, but did not argue with him otherwise. And if she did not mind his company, Faris would not turn down such a boon. “If I might join you?” 

“Oh, o’course! Just a second...” Gemma shifted in her seat, and Faris noticed now she’d been sitting with her legs curled underneath her, artfully hidden in the skirt of her gown. “Awful sorry. I know it’s not all that polite, but I’m just not made for shoes like this. I needed a break.” 

True to her words, Gemma held a pair of pearly white heels in one hand by the collars, and when she moved to slip them back on her feet, Faris raised a hand to stop her. 

“Please, do not concern yourself with something so trivial. I have heard Frysabel complain about her own pairs more times than I can count! Your comfort is more important than social convention.” 

Gemma had paused for a second, but Faris’ reassurance had given her very obvious relief, and she dropped her shoes on the floor before falling back against the window. “Oh, crikey, _thank you_. I don’t want these things back on ‘till the night’s over.” 

“I wouldn’t dare fault you!” Faris took his seat beside her—close enough that the satin of her dress brushed against his knees, out of necessity, but not too close. A lady was entitled to her space, after all. “I must admit, I’ve never understood the need to wear something so deeply uncomfortable. Let alone in a land covered in ice and snow.” 

“Well, you’re an odd one to talk, Prince Faris, you’re in sandals all the time!” Gemma laughed again, a bit louder and more carefree, and Faris didn’t quite mind in this instance if he was the butt of some joke he couldn’t decipher. “Gosh, when I saw you out in the service like that, I couldn’t believe it. How aren’tcha cold out here?” 

“Years of accumulation, and the refusal to admit when I am wrong.” Perhaps if the situation were different, how they must have looked now might have come off as curious, huddled together in hushed, giggling conversation. But there was nothing wrong with small talk at a wedding, and certainly not with a friend! “Not ideal for Sniflheim’s uneven terrain, of course, but one does what one must. And I am still not immune to fatigue.” 

“I can imagine. Are you takin’ a break from dancing, then?” 

“Ah—no, not quite.” Faris waved aside the question, though not with quite as much ease as he had with Sylvando. Gemma had a natural charm about her that left him sheepish, in ways not many others could leave him. “Truth be told, I do not know how. Unfortunate, but harmless.” 

“Really?” Gemma gave him a rather peculiar look, falling silent for a moment, before laughing quietly to herself. “Guess we’re in the same boat, then.” 

Her voice went soft as she spoke, like she was saying it more to herself than to him, and despite the smile gracing her lips, Gemma’s eyes fell ever crestfallen. It was a drastic and sudden shift from her earlier, exuberant charm. 

“Miss Gemma?” This was a careful road he had to tread—perhaps Faris was far from the textbook example of a proper knight yet, but any man worth his salt knew that one does not let a lady fall out of good cheer if it can be helped. “Is something troubling you?” 

She squeaked in surprise, a soft sound that Faris saw with every jolt of her body and blush to her cheeks, and even then when she waved the question away with both hands, smiling bright again, but much more shyly. Her loveliness was layered; Faris was certain Nova had to be the only man on the earth immune to her wiles, and even then only because he had the good fortune to grow up alongside her. 

“I-It’s nothin’, honest! You don’t need to be worryin’ about me.” She laughed, suddenly much more timid than she had been just moments before. “I really shouldn’t be bothering a prince with somethin’ so silly, anyway.” 

“Ah, but you would bother Nova, would you not?” 

“Well, that’s different, you’re much more a prince than he is.” Gemma was firm in her assertion, and truth be told, Faris couldn’t argue that. “I know how to talk to ‘im. And with Nova, it’s at least sorta… I wouldn’t feel too _bad_ whinin’ to him? Like, he’s heard it from me before, and—oh, well, _now_ it just sounds like I’m pickin’ favorites.” 

“Truly, it would not be a competition that I would win if he is my opponent.” Faris smiled, as he always did, but for the first time that night, he found himself wondering if his smile was as assuring as he tried to make it seem. “But, if there is a chance it might ease your worries, please, speak your thoughts. You are among friends here, after all!” 

Did Gemma think him a friend? Faris certainly hoped so. Otherwise this was going to become very painful very fast. 

The look Gemma gave him was curious, at best, but she didn’t look at him for very long. She glanced back out to the ballroom floor, bottom lip nursed between her teeth and hands fumbling in the skirt of her dress. This, too, was just another aspect of her inherent magnetism, but this one didn’t so much as draw Faris in as it did make him greatly worried. 

“...well. Y’see—” She started, quiet once again, “I was dancin’ with Nova a little while ago, yeah? So Princess Jade could dance with the Queen for a bit. And… we both know neither of us is all that good, we never got any fancy lessons for it. Didn’t need ‘em. But we were havin’ fun, so I didn’t really think much about it.” 

Gemma’s eyes dropped to the ground, and she smiled again, but not nearly as full of cheer as Faris knew she could. “But, I passed him back to the Princess, and when I went to get a drink, I… there were some girls gigglin’ about how I was dancin’. I dunno if they knew I heard ‘em, but I can’t say they would’ve cared if they did.” 

Shoulders heavy, she sighed, wringing her hands in her lap. “They’re probably just huffy some dumb ol’ farm girl was dancin’ with a prince when they weren’t. Didn’t have a thing t’ say about Nova, so… Like I said, it’s really nothing worth worrying about. Certainly not at a wedding! Just made me a mite sad, is all. I was gonna ask Erik if he’d dance with me later, before he ran off, Serena looked like she was having a swell time with ‘im, but now I don’t…” 

Gemma trailed off, now glancing back up at Faris, her face going from embarrassed to confused. “Prince Faris, are you alright? You look fit to burst!” 

Faris could not see himself, but he could certainly feel the blood rise to his face and the furrow of his brow. He was far from the type to jump to anger, but what other reaction could he have had? The den of wolves that was their noble peers just would not _quit_! Not out of respect for the grandest hero’s yearning, or for an impossibly fair lady’s merriment! And while one of those things was beyond his control (and, statistically, also beyond Erik’s control because _Goddess have mercy_ _his dear friend did not know how to read social cues_ —), the other made him see red in every hue a man could see. 

“I—yes! Yes, I’m quite fine!” He didn’t _sound_ fine, and he could admit that, but that was beside the point. “But, milady, I simply cannot let this insult to you stand! Tell me, who were these naysayers? I shall speak to them posthaste, and—” 

“No! Omigosh, omigosh, please, no!” 

Faris had raised a fist without noticing, and he only did notice when Gemma clamped her hands around it and forced it down. The warmth of her skin snapped him back to reality, and calmed him almost immediately, but before he could even apologize for his loss of composure, Gemma seemed to realize what she’d done, and released his fist with a small, embarrassed jump. 

“I… r-really! It’s alright.” She cleared her throat, settling back down with a humble smile. “It’s… disappointin’, yeah, but this isn’t somethin’ that’ll hurt me, any! Not in the long run. And at the end of the day, Nova’s _my_ best friend, not theirs. Fancier folk can laugh at me all they like, but they can’t change that.” 

Her optimistic outlook was both heartwarming and contagious. Faris had nearly said as such, but before he could find the words, Gemma’s smile turned into a sly grin. “Honestly, if _I’m_ that threatenin’ to ‘em, then I’d love to see what’d happen if they gave _Erik_ the stink-eye.” 

Her sudden shift in outlook near dumbfounded Faris, but as what she had implied slowly sunk in, he found himself slowly coming to laugh at the very idea—and thankfully, he noted, Gemma started laughing along with him. “Oh, Miss Gemma! You are a woman of many truths, and just as many surprises.” 

“I keep _tellin’_ Nova to just make me a sword, so things like this don’t happen, but does he listen? Nope!” Gemma groaned, but with obvious sarcasm. “Ah, well. Hope me being fulla surprises makes things fun for you.” 

“It is a blessing!” He said many things were blessings, it was true, but every moment of every day was a gift, and Faris wasn’t sure he had met someone who gave so much the same way that Gemma did. “Sincerely, it is always a delight to be in your company. I say this from the heart.” 

Gemma shied away from him, just a touch, but her smile never left her lips, and was now accompanied by a captivating blush on her cheeks. The heart Faris had just spoken from fluttered from the sight. “Well, y’certainly are a charmer, Your Highness.” 

“My words are like my intent, straightforward and true.” Again, such praises he often gave freely, but he always meant every one of them. “If such words cheer you, then I am all the more glad to say them.” 

That, too, he meant especially so, and Gemma tittered, soft and sweet into her hand, turning her face back out towards the ballroom with a quiet, “Thank you.” 

Well. As Faris had hoped and intended, the lady was merry once again. Still, an air of longing still hung around her, and he was more than sure he knew why. “You do still wish to dance though, do you not?” 

“Mm… I mean, yeah.” She admitted it with a sigh, somewhere between wistful and begrudging. “Not that Sylvando isn’t fun to watch, but I can do that anytime these days. Dunno when I’ll be at a wedding next, and I worked awfully hard on this dress just for tonight! Feels like a waste just to sit around to me.” 

Gemma stretched out her legs, staring down at her feet just poking out from the end of her skirt. “Not the end of the world, though! If Erik’s not stuck right on Nova’s hip when he comes back, I can probably borrow ‘im a minute. Don’t mind waitin’ for that.” She dropped her legs suddenly, the force flaring out her skirt in a small flourish. “Like you said, I’m with friends.” 

It was true. He had said that. And there was a great boost to his pride in hearing that Gemma _did_ enjoy his company after all, even greater than when Sylvando had praised his personal growth that short while ago. His imposter syndrome was hardly as debilitating as Nova’s was, but it still hung over his head at strange times, and despite his best and routine efforts at positivity. It was relieving to know he was not causing her trouble. 

Still, content and placated now that she was, Gemma’s worries hadn’t completely left her, and she had admitted as such. And it occurred to Faris then, watching her watch the ballroom with patience, that this quandary was something he could solve, and even more to the point, that he had no reason not to solve it. 

Well, perhaps he had one; he thought distantly back to his earlier conversation with Sylvando, back to his reasonings for abstaining from dance, but those reasonings hardly seemed to matter in light of the case at hand. Perhaps in the end he _would_ do something to cause Frysabel some small grief, but it was a worthy sacrifice, and a risk he would just have to take. One he was sure his cousin would understand if she saw Gemma’s smile but once. 

And with Gemma’s smile in mind, Faris rose from his seat, without a word. He managed to pull her attention back to him, curious but observant. “Prince Faris?” 

“If milady is not troubled by my company,” Faris, for his part, bowed at the waist, his hand extended towards her, “might I then ask her for a dance?” 

Gemma was not slow. Never would he dare even entertain the idea, but there was a genuine lull in her reactions that came off as wholly uncharacteristic of her. The blank stare and wordless blink she gave him at first glance seemed to say volumes on their own, and for what felt like the most agonizing minute of his life, Faris began to panic that he had overstepped his boundaries in the end after all—but then, Gemma’s cheeks bloomed in red, and her mouth fell open in shock. 

“Oh, my stars—” Her voice cracked, near coming out as a soft squawk, but even as flustered as she was, Faris found himself fully beguiled. “Wait, but—but you said—” 

“I did, yes.” Not so beguiled, of course, that he could not state his case. It was close, though. “But if I possess the power to lift your spirits, even by a bit, then I see no reason to refuse. So long as you wish, of course.” 

Gemma’s blush darkened, rather drastically so, and her eyes fell low once again. “Oh, Prince Faris, I really can’t ask you to do that! I’m not tryin’ to put anyone out by being mopey. And—and you’re a prince, it’s not… I can’t keep takin’ up your time.” 

“Miss Gemma, you do no such thing!” He argued. “You have every reason to feel disheartened. And crown prince or no, I cannot leave that be.” 

“Oh, this isn’t a chivalry thing, is it?” Her question was fair, but her frown was most dismaying. “I ‘preciate the thought, but…” 

“It is in part, yes, I will not deny it—but I would sooner say that it is more of a ‘common sense thing’.” Faris knew from an early age that ultimately, he would have one job as sultan: to make his people happy. And that came easy to him, and had come easy all his life, but if he couldn’t make even one person happy in the end—someone he really, truly wanted to see smile above all others—then what was the point? “Of course, I cannot also deny that… slightly less noble intent is also at play.” 

Gemma raised a brow. “‘Less noble intent’?” 

“ _Well._ ” And here Faris smiled, good-natured as always, but with a clear air of deviousness. “Simply put: if others would be so cruel to you for dancing with _one_ prince, then it is only appropriate that we let them see where such cruelty puts them, when you dance with a _second_ prince to their none.” 

Again, she stared at him as though in a stupor, but it wasn’t to last long; there was a subtle twitch to the corner of her mouth, then another, and then all of a sudden her lips cracked into the widest smile he’d seen from her yet. Gemma clamped her hands over her mouth before she lost herself to laughter, but still she doubled over in newfound giddiness. It took her a moment before she rose again, but when she did, Faris swore she looked at him with stars in her eyes. 

“Your _Highness_!” She sounded like she tried to reprimand him, but her laughter made the attempt moot—to say nothing of when Gemma so readily slipped her hand into his. “You’re all full of beans, and cheeky about it to boot!” 

“I am... entitled to my more dubious moments from time to time.” Carefully, Faris pulled Gemma to her feet. Keeping his composure was proving to be a more daunting task than Faris had expected this night, but now, it was for entirely different reasons than before. “Though rarely am I blessed with the aid of an enabler like yourself.” 

“Oh, you’re twistin’ my arm just as bad! Suppose it’s just as well we both know how to have some fun.” 

One hand still in his, Gemma lifted her skirt just a bit, enough to try and slide her heels back on, but again, Faris stopped her. “Miss Gemma, really, you needn’t force yourself.” 

“Believe me, I’d rather not. But nobody else is out there on bare feet, right?” Gemma stared down at her shoes with a furrowed brow and puffed cheeks, like the heels had never done her a favor in her life. “Wouldn’t be fair to you, either; you still got appearances to keep up.” 

Faris frowned. To her credit, she was right on both accounts, but it didn’t deter his insistence at all. Necessity was the mother of invention, after all—or in this case, intervention. “Then allow me to make it fair to _you_.” 

He released her hand, admittedly with some reluctance, in favor of looping his fingers under the straps of one sandal. He felt Gemma’s eyes on him as he did so, something like wonder in the way she held herself. “Oh, Prince Faris, y’musn’t—!” 

“Oh, but I must!” The ties came undone with a few well-placed tugs, and he kicked the sandal off and to the side before turning his attention to its brother. “It would be sinfully negligent of me to force a lady into a situation she is uncomfortable with. And if your concern is social norms, then it is within my power to change those, even if but for a moment. Lead by example—in this case, I by you.” 

His sandals removed, and feet flat on the marble floor, Faris stood straight again, and smiled at Gemma somewhat abashed. “...Although perhaps, more to the point. At the end of it all, I am still… not talented on the dance floor. If I do step on your feet—and regrettably, I fear that is a promise—I would like it to be with as little discomfort to you as possible.” 

That got a snort out of Gemma—a genuine force of breath through her nose, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep quiet again, but that too, Faris found wholly dear. “Gosh, if you’re gonna put it like _that_ , I reckon that would make things a bit easier.” 

“Such is all I hope for.” His composure again secured for the moment, Faris offered his hand once more. “As we were?” 

Gemma, now suddenly bold, opted not to take his hand this time, in favor of looping her arm around his. If she felt the way Faris jolted from her touch, she said nothing about it. “As we were.” 

* * *

Dancing was, as Faris knew it would be, harder than it looked. 

Having watched other pairs dance throughout the night, both here and at other times, it was easy for him to rationalize why his mother had hated her lessons so much. There was a certain level of confidence one had to have both in themselves and in their partner in order to move with poise and grace that just couldn’t be taught, but rather built over years and years of practice and familiarity and trust. Despite noble stereotypes, that amount of time was not something so easily spared for a crown prince. 

So really, why Gemma trusted him so much right from the moment they stepped onto the dance floor completely baffled him. Particularly when he stepped on her feet for the fifth time. “My apologies—” 

At the very least, his stumbling kept Gemma laughing and focused on him, rather than the eyes of their peers. And even as off to the side of the floor as they were, the eyes of their peers did give them rather curious looks, from their bare feet or from their balter or from both—but if Gemma did not care, then that was all that mattered. 

“S’alright.” She said between snickers. “You’re awfully nervous all’ova sudden, Your Highness. Tryin’ to keep room for the Goddess?” 

“O-One must take care not to offend.” Faris paused a beat to twirl her outward; he’d seen Erik do it with Serena, and while he hadn’t pulled it off with even a fraction as much finesse, Gemma didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. “It hardly helps to cheer you if I embarrass you.” 

“Oh, shush, I don’t know what I’m doin’, either.” Gemma said, and for a second, she pulled her hand away from his shoulder, to move the one he’d placed on her waist; evidently, Faris had landed a tad higher than he should have, and quietly he was grateful she corrected the mistake without comment. “And if we’re both bad, might as well be bad as loud as we can, right?” 

“‘As loud as we can’?” Faris’ movements slowed so much that Gemma, for a time began, to lead him instead. Their dancing almost instantly became better. “I—I’m afraid that you have lost me.” 

“...Hmmm.” 

Gemma glanced up to the ceiling as she thought. “Well—the way I see it, if someone’s gonna laugh at you for doin’ something badly, then there’s always a chance they’ll keep laughin’ even when you’re doin’ good. Does that make sense?” 

“It does, yes.” To the credit of the ladies of the court, younger girls were often times more aware of the times and tired of what was expected of them, and as such were much more agreeable; it was normally the older ones used to getting their way that ended up snobbish, and pressing uninterested parties for attention. “Much as I would like to say otherwise, there are those who simply do not change.” 

“Exactly. Folks are like that sometimes. And it can make you sad, we both know how bummed I was—but if it’s gonna happen no matter what, then what’s the point in duckin’ yer head down? Why not give ‘em somethin’ to laugh about?” 

Always full of surprises, Gemma stood on her tiptoes, and actually spun Faris as they talked, her arm just barely clearing the top of his turban. “Can’t be somebody else’s joke if you’re the one who’s laughin’.” 

Almighty damn them all, she was so wise. As a person, Faris knew he was very easily swayed, but he doubted that even the most stoic and immovable man would not be won over by Gemma simply speaking her mind. “Milady, you are leaps and bounds ahead of your time.” 

“I don’t think it’s anything that special.” She mumbled, bashful. “Common sense, right? Fake it ‘til you make it, an’ all.” 

Something struck Faris, then, like a gong going off in his head. 

The concept of the phrase wasn’t something foreign to him. To portray oneself as the person they wanted to be, to adopt behaviors and motivations to lead oneself towards a brighter future—in many ways, Faris was willing to say that “fake it ‘til you make it” had been the way he’d lived his life since he was old enough to understand the weight of his responsibilities. And it was benign, to a point, but it was only recently that he’d come to realize that he was not the only victim at the end of piles and piles of white lies, no matter how noble their intent may have been. It was a shame to his character that he would always have to keep with him, regardless of whether he was forgiven and learned from his mistakes at all. 

All his bravado aside, it was still something that bothered Faris—to the point where he had actually come to a standstill with Gemma still guiding him along. He didn’t realize it had even happened, until she had raised a hand and snapped once in his face. 

“Oh—I’m sorry.” Gemma winced upon seeing him startle. “You trailed off for a moment there, Your Highness. Did I say somethin’ odd?” 

It was a difficult lesson for him to learn that maintaining an appearance was not worth harming oneself, in body or in spirit, and he was not about to let anyone else face that inner turmoil as he had. Certainly not someone as lovely as Gemma. 

“No.” Faris said after a long pause, grasping her hand with renewed vigor. “Not in the slightest.” 

To that end, his smile returned to his face, and he twirled her away. 

While momentarily stunned by his sudden boldness, Gemma’s shock very quickly turned into delight, and she swung with Faris in equal measure. 

He supposed, distantly, this dance of theirs must have looked rather amateur. They were moving a fair bit off-tempo for the song that played, and Faris spun Gemma far more often than necessary, and every time he did her skirt flared up revealing only her stocking-clad feet. A part of Faris—the princely part of him, the part of him that held the knight’s code to heart and mastered court conduct at a young age—was quick to remind him that this certainly would not do, that some official was going to comment on this display, that there was a good chance that he would be reprimanded for treating his dear cousin’s wedding akin to a playground. And yet, the greater part of Faris, the man beneath the crown with a world of things left to learn… that part frankly didn’t give a Lips’ lick. 

Once he had dropped the pretense of trying to appeal to onlookers, Faris was pleased to discover that dancing wasn’t as terrible as it had seemed. Did a dance have to be good, really? Was it not enough to dance a stumbling dance regardless, so long as it made one dizzy with excitement? There was no meaning in boringly repeating the same moves, or reason in stepping according to a beat. No matter how hard Faris thought about it, he couldn’t find hide nor hair of a value in either one. 

Because this, as it was, was _fun_. Dancing like this was _fun_ , he was having fun with Gemma, and Gemma was having fun with _him_ , and— 

“W-Wait, Faris, look out—!” 

But Faris did not look out—so lost was he in the sound of Gemma saying his name with no titles attached that he did not watch his step, and his back collided with that of another dancer. Without a chance to stop his momentum, Gemma tumbled after him, and Faris into the dancer, and the dancer into their partner, and like a comical game of dominoes, all four were knocked to the ground. 

He’d released Gemma’s hands in the hope that she might catch and save at least herself, but Faris couldn’t say how successful the attempt was. He landed flat on his back, and his turban was lost in the shuffle, offering no comfort to his head on the marble floor. “Oww…” 

“Eek!” Outside of his vision, Gemma gave a startled yelp. “O-Okay, somebody’s hands are on my—” 

Erik jumped up immediately, hands raised in surrender and panic on his face. “Sorry!” 

When Faris had stopped wincing and sat up himself, he saw Nova helping Gemma to her feet; so much for the hope that she had managed to save herself from the fall, but she didn’t look injured, so Faris took that as a quiet victory as he hefted himself from the ground as well. 

“Nova! Your hands are _freezing!_ ” Gemma took both her friend’s hands in her own in fret. It reminded Faris very much of when Frysabel would hover over him whenever he refused to dress for the weather. He remembered that day last week. “Did you _just_ get back inside?” 

“Er—no.” Nova answered a little too quickly, under a nervous cough. “We’ve been… it’s been about ten minutes, right?” 

The question was directed at Erik, who ran a hand through his hair in equal anxiousness. “That—seems about right, yeah.” 

A curious way to answer that, Faris thought, but Gemma seemed to give it no mind, and sighed in frustration as she let go of Nova’s hands. Her attention, she decided, was better directed towards Faris’ turban, which had fallen near her feet. 

“Honestly, all of you are _awful!_ Where’s the good in risking frostbite during a party?” Gemma knelt down a moment to pick up the turban, dusting it off mindfully. “And what where you two even _doin’_ this close to the…” 

Her dusting hand slowly stilled, and Gemma looked to Faris with a pointed look of realization. And it confused him, why she would suddenly be giving him this look when she’d just been reprimanding Nova—and rightfully so, Faris might add! Wasn’t he trying to avoid being spotted in here for a while? And he knew that Erik knew that, so why Erik would let Nova come back inside this close to the ballroom floor was— 

“Ah.” Faris looked back to Gemma with a matching look of bewilderment. 

“‘Ah’?” Nova repeated. 

“Nothing at all, old friend, nothing at all.” Faris coughed into his fist, a classic diversion. Gemma nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “That is to say—is it wise for you to return inside so soon?” 

“It’s not like it was getting any warmer.” Erik muttered; Faris noted that his cheeks were now a little pinker than they had been before. 

“Well, that, yeah—but it’s something I’ll have to get used to eventually, right?” Not one shy of giving his own diversions, Nova spoke up with a bit more forced cheer than he probably needed. “No point in running away, I reckon. And there’s enough people looking out for me, that I don’t…” 

As with Gemma before him, Nova’s words trailed off. Specifically, they trailed off with his eyes, downward, towards the bottom of Gemma’s dress, which Faris now noticed had gathered up enough in the fall that the tips of her uncovered toes were poking from under the hem. 

“Gemma?” He asked, puzzled. “Are you not wearing shoes?” 

While Gemma stuttered out a long “Uhhhh” in response, Nova glanced over to Faris with surprise on his face. “Wait, Faris—you’re not, either? What did we miss?” 

“That—one of the straps broke.” Faris quickly lied. “And Gemma did not wish to risk hurting me with her heels.” 

“Yup, that’s exactly what happened!” Gemma wasn’t quite as skilled in deflecting as Nova was (though few people were), but she caught on to Faris’ lie quickly and insistently enough. And then, with little warning, and before he could even react, she grabbed for his hand and tugged him back to her side. “We were about to go lookin’ for something else for ‘im, so we’ll get out of your hair now!” 

“But—” 

“Nuh-uh, no buts! I know what I’m doin’!” Gemma’s pulls became insistent, and before Nova could get a word in edgeways, she hurriedly dragged Faris without in the direction of the grand ballroom door. “Sorry about the bump, Nova, make sure they save me some cake!” 

* * *

At the risk of coming off as though he again was shirking his training, Faris knew deep down that he would always be faster on foot than he ever would be on a horse. As such, he had little trouble keeping up with Gemma as they sprinted out of the ballroom, and even less trouble when he eventually overcame her speed, and led her instead as far away from the party as he could. 

Just as before, Gemma trusted him enough to let him be her guide. Though admittedly, Faris didn’t think nearly as hard about it this time around. 

They finally came to a stop in the next wing over, in an empty hallway where even the muffled sounds of the reception barely reached them, and Faris released Gemma’s hand in favor of doubling over to catch his breath. It hadn’t been so bad a venture, but there was more adrenaline at play here than just a simple run; judging from the way Gemma also fell back against the wall to fan herself, clutching his turban to her chest, the rush must have hit her just the same. 

And yet. Even a mad dash such as that had been just as enjoyable as their dance had been. More than likely just as graceless, but no less fun. And again, Gemma didn’t look upset at what had happened, and an unbridled grin spread across her face while she wound down. Full of surprises, she was, each one no less grand. 

“Hah… Miss Gemma.” Faris smiled up at her, hands on his knees as his breathing stilled. “You are… _quite_ bold, I would hope you know.” 

“Heehee… Sorry ‘bout that.” Gemma sighed out a shaky laugh just the same. “Nova _told_ me not to wear the heels, but I said I’d be fine. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, y’know? I panicked a lil’ bit, thought he’d see right through that fib.” 

“On any other occasion, I would assume that he did.” But luckily, Nova had a bevy of distractions all in one corsair-coated present, so the chances of Nova giving the two of them any further thought was slim. “Although, that is… not quite what I was speaking of.” 

“No?” 

“Well, it… before—all of that,” Faris explained, standing tall again, “I must admit. What I feel that surprised me the most was that… you said my name. To be frank, it was not something I expected.” 

“I—did I?” Gemma’s expression turned deep and thoughtful—much had just happened, Faris could hardly blame her for not giving the moment as much thought as he had—before jumping away into surprise. “Oh, my gosh, I did. That was… probably more than a bit rude of me, eh?” 

“Not at all. I was… rather happy you did so.” He’d never ask for Nova to address him like that, so why would Faris even dare to ask Gemma for that pleasantry? Titles meant nothing between friends. “And if it pleased her, I would rather milady address me like that as she wished.” 

Gemma peered at him a moment, so intently Faris feared she might see right through him, but the moment passed, and she gave him an assertive nod. “If that’s what you want, we should be even, then. So no more ‘Miss Gemma’s or ‘milady’s outta you, alright?” 

“‘Milady’ has been ingrained into me since youth, I do not think I can leave that behind me.” He admitted. “But I can most certainly drop the ‘Miss’.” 

Her firm expression mellowed into something softer, but no less strong-willed. Faris had only seen such a contradiction of faces on Sylvando before, but for whatever reason, he found such an oxymoron far more appealing on Gemma. More natural, more fetching. 

“Alright, that’s fair.” She gave a satisfied hum while she straightened out her skirt. “But, not to backtrack—we did leave all our stuff in there, didn’t we? I can’t think the staff here’ll be too thrilled about us trampin’ around barefoot.” 

“If I may,” Faris offered, “while our means of escape _were_ technically a lie, I _am_ familiar with the amenities Frysabel provides to her guests. I am certain we can find you a more sensible pair of shoes.” 

“Really?” There was a quickness to Gemma’s voice with a barely hidden relief, but she smothered it as best she could. “I mean—you don’t think she’d mind, do you?” 

“If I know my cousin as well as I like to believe, no. But should someone less couth speak up, then we might say that it is an apology, for me letting you fall so.” 

“But what about you, then? Is this another chivalry thing?” 

“Again! I would argue the concept of ‘ladies first’ is more common sense than anything. But really, it would not be the first time I’ve caused trouble in this castle. They are accustomed to my shenanigans—admittedly though, having an accomplice that is not my cousin is new.” 

He allowed himself to give Gemma a wink, and she playfully shook her head in return. Joking as they were, though, it did still stand for Faris to give a more formal apology for the situation; recklessness came natural to them both, it seemed, but there were just some things a man simply did not do, and letting a lady fall was one of them. 

Faris bowed at the waist to her once more, humble in his every move. “Should I ever have the honor of another dance… I will be sure to have taken lessons by then.” 

Gemma laughed, and with all her face and eyes alight, raised her hands, bringing his turban back to rest on his head. It was slightly askew, and he could feel the cloth of it slowly coming undone, but Faris could not have cared less. Not when Gemma was smiling at him, brilliant like the desert sun. 

“I reckon I’d give you another just the same without ‘em.” 

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this was a line taken from the Caro Emerald song "Just One Dance", which is a much more sultry song than this fic is, and some word choices/formatting was inspired by wowaka's World's End Dancehall. what is a consistent theme, never met her
> 
> my dq tumblr is swindlersstole, but if you're here from twitter and you'd rather yell at me there, my public twitter is rukatakowasa! ~~I often forget I have it!~~ as always, comments and kudos are very much loved.


End file.
